Conversations
by PumpkinSnitch
Summary: When Kate died, each of her team members talked to her one last time. One day it might happen again.  Who might be lost? And what would each team member be thinking? My first story, so please be nice!
1. Tim

Hi everyone! So this is my first story. Please be nice, flames will be disregarded anyways. I hope you all enjoy!

please leave a review, constructive criticism is definitely welcome!

I'll start with the intro and then get into the good stuff in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: don't own, so don't sue (please!)

It happened when Kate died. Each and every friend and coworker of hers remembered her in their own way, through conversations. Each team member said the things they never said, were ashamed to say, or thought they would hear from her. Blame, sympathy, memories.

The next time it happened to Gibbs, it was Mike Franks' death. He had hoped it would never happen again. So the next time it did, it was totally unexpected.

It was too early in the morning to be out. Tony, Ziva, and McGee's phones rang at 4:30 in the morning, Gibbs' gruff voice notifying them of a dead Marine. Found in a field in Virginia, not far from Washington D.C.

Within an hour and a half- would Gibbs accept anything later?- the team was out and working, groggy as they were.

Despite the early hour, the team worked diligently. (Maybe the promise of coffee on the Director for a week did the trick.) Tony was helping Palmer and Ducky pack up the van, while Ziva, Gibbs, and McGee finished up with the evidence where the body was found. The sun was just coming up over the woods that lined the field. The sun rays were welcome, and as Tony looked around, he happened to see a glint off of a gun on the edge of the trees, about 20 yards away from where he stood.

"Shooter!" Tony shouted, clearing the few steps over to where Ducky and Jimmy were. He provided cover as he herded them behind the cover of the ME van.

However, Ziva, Gibbs, and McGee didn't have as much time to react. Ziva did hit the ground in her classic Mossad style, but she was still exposed in the big open field. Running for cover might have been as dangerous as staying put.

"Boss!" McGee said, pushing Gibbs down. Though the Team Leader was already moving towards the ground, McGee pushed him just as a shot rang out.

BOOM!

The single shot. That was it. The agents weren't sure if the sniper was waiting for a better target, or if one shot was the intended amount. Tony peeked from behind the van, and Ziva looked up from her position on the ground. The flash Tony had seen off of the gun was gone.

But that was when she noticed McGee.

He was standing there, swaying slightly. He had an look of astonishment on his face, but also confusion. His hand was held over his chest.

"McGee?" she asked worriedly. Gibbs stood up just in time for the junior field agent to close his eyes and fall on his back.

"Tim!" they both shouted, catching him and laying him down. During the fall, his hand was moved, and now they could see the deep, dark red stain on the front of his shirt.

"TONY!" Ziva yelled. "McGee is hit!"

"Palmer, call an ambulance!" Tony said as they rushed to the still form on the ground.

"Get my medical bag, Anthony!" Ducky ordered as he knelt down on the ground. "Ziva, cover his wound. Jethro, is he breathing?"

Ziva pushed her hands over her teammate's chest. Gibbs checked McGee's breathing.

"No, Duck, he's not!"

Tony sprinted over with the bag. Ziva absently heard Palmer say something about an ambulance being on its way.

"Timothy? Timothy my boy, can you hear me?" Ducky asked, as he worked on keeping McGee's heart beating. He shouted instructions and moved expertly.

"McGee," Gibbs said. "Come on, McGee."

Tim stirred.

"That's right, buddy." Tony muttered, terrified. "Listen to Gibbs,"

"His pulse is fading, Doctor," Jimmy informed urgently.

"B'ss?" McGee slurred.

"I'm here, Tim," Gibbs said. But McGee lost consciousness before he could acknowledge it.

Minutes passed. Everyone was oblivious of the medics that arrived until they pushed Tony out of the way. They moved even faster than the field team did, quickly placing McGee onto a stretcher and rushing into the vehicle.

"I'm riding with him," Gibbs growled. The look on his face dared anyone else to question it. He jumped in next to Tim as they sped off to Bethesda.

The paramedics rushed into action again, passing back and forth tubes and stabilizers.

Gibbs found a spot near Tim's head that was not being crowded at the moment. He leaned in and spoke to the agent who was his youngest son. "Listen to me Tim," he said. "I had hoped that I would never have to tell you this, but You. Will. Not. Die. We need you here, son. Keep fighting Tim. That's an order. You hear me? You will not die."


	2. Palmer

Hey everyone! I would like to thank anyone who read the first chapter, or reviewed.

So here's the next chapter. Palmer's thoughts are not as long as the others, so I'll probably post more than once today.

The usual disclaimer applies. ;)

Jimmy sat still, got up, fidgeted, and sat back down. He was all alone, waiting for news. It was his job to wait, while Doctor Mallard got coffee. Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs had all been sitting in the waiting room too, but when each realized that they were covered in McGee's blood, Doctor Mallard sent them off (after he had changed). Tony was somewhere on the same floor, Ziva had gone up a set of stairs, just to get away. Nobody knew where Gibbs was.

Palmer had been working at NCIS for years, and he had seen death before. It was his job! But he had never done an autopsy for a friend. Once, he assisted with the autopsy for Director Shepard, but that had been more awkward than emotional. He felt terrible, of course, but he also felt like this was an invasion of the secretive director's privacy.

If Tim died...

McGee was Palmer's friend. A good friend. If Tim died, Jimmy would have to be there for the autopsy.

"You could, do it, you know."

Jimmy looked up to see McGee lounging on the bench opposite him! He was sitting there, casually flipping through a magazine. His skin was pale and ashy; he looked like one of the cadavers Jimmy worked with every day. But for all of that, he seemed at ease. Tim looked up and locked eyes with Palmer.

"But you're- you- you-"

"I'm in there? Yeah," McGee said with a nod at the emergency room doors. He grinned kindly. "So...what if I died? You would help Ducky with the autopsy."

"I couldn't do that," Palmer sputtered.

"Yes, you could. Look, I'm not too happy about the idea either," Tim frowned. "But if anyone had to do it, I would prefer it to be you and Ducky."

Palmer stared at Tim for a second. "Try to make it Tim,"

McGee laughed. "I am trying! I'm in there right now fighting, remember? I love this job, and they can't get rid of me that easy."

He looked at Palmer again. "Don't worry Jimmy."

"But-"

"Mr. Palmer,"

Jimmy looked up. He was alone, except for Doctor Mallard, who was standing there, coffee in his hand, a concerned expression on his face. Jimmy had not seen the Doctor look so tired in a long time.

"Doctor Mallard," Jimmy stood up hurriedly. "There was no news yet,"

"Thank you, Jimmy," Ducky said quietly. A silent pause followed for a moment.

"Do you need someone to talk to?" Ducky asked understandingly.

"Well...it's just that..."

"You are worried about Timothy? And you are afraid that you will have to conduct the autopsy if he does not make it?" Ducky sighed.

"Yes," Palmer said. "He's my friend. I've never really had to... Do this before. I mean, I was gone for Agent Todd's death. And I didn't really know the Director personally when she died."

"I believe I told you back then that it doesn't get easier."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Well, I must insist on this truth. But all I can tell you is, that its part of our job. And Timothy is a fighter. He will come back to us if he can."

Jimmy could see Tim's grin in his mind.

- _I'm in there right now fighting, remember?_-

"Thank you, Doctor," Jimmy whispered as he sat back down. Ducky sat with him, and the two of them continued to wait.


	3. Abby

If anyone who came into the forensics lab didn't know Abby personally, they wouldn't know where to find her. Only Ducky, Jimmy, or a member of Team Gibbs would know to look for her curled up in a corner, clutching a Caf-Pow! in one hand and Bert the Hippo in another.

But that is where she was now, her thick black mascara trailing down her cheeks. Vance had come in while she working and listening to her music. He had shouted to get her attention, and she had quickly turned it off to listen. He calmly and carefully explained that someone on Gibbs' team had gotten shot and was rushed to the hospital. Before he could finish his last sentence, she was a worried mess, asking a flurry of questions.

"Miss Scuito, I understand that you want to be at the hospital for your friend and coworker. I appreciate that. But I need you to stay here and just quickly process the gun and see if you can find a match. Then you can go, ok? We need to catch this bastard."

"Yes sir, but who is it? Who got hurt?" she cried. Vance absently noted that this was the first time she had sincerely called him sir. He felt sorry for the forensic scientist, but he could not stay and comfort her.

"Agent McGee."

The following few moments went by in a blur for the goth. She froze, unsure of what she heard. Then it took her a minute to absorb what she was hearing. Vance apologized and excused himself. He had a wife at home, so he knew that look on Abby Sciuto's face: I just need to be alone.

Then she screamed. Or, at least she tried to, but it really came out as a strangled cry. Tears flooded down her face. She grabbed Bert and the Caf-Pow! that she had been drinking.

The one McGee brought her just that morning.

She paced the room, shaking her head. McGee couldn't be hurt! In all the years that he had worked at NCIS, he had miraculously never been shot, or hurt enough to cause worry. He just didn't get rushed to the hospital- that was Tony's area of expertise.

And maybe she was dreaming. It was an ungodly time of day. She was probably just overtired. She would wake up, and everything would be okay!

But she knew that wasn't true. So here she sat, waiting for the gun to be delivered by someone. As she was standing up, a probie walked in, looking nervous and shaky at the idea of holding a gun that had shot another agent.

"Here is the gun, Miss Scuito," he said. "I'm really s-sorry about agent McGee."

Abby's head snapped up to stare at him.

"Sorry? Sorry!? You are acting like he's dead! He isn't dead! He is going to be fine! He can't be anything but fine!" she shouted hysterically. The young agent hurried out, and she put her face in her hands.

"Woah, Abby. It's not his fault. If you remember, I used to be that green."

The Lab Rat turned around. There was her Timmy, propped up against her evidence table. He wore a MIT t-shirt and jeans with his leather jacket, and he looked tired, but calm.

"No. No no no no," Abby said. "You can't be here."

His face made that sad look he wore whenever she said something that hurt his feelings. She automatically regretted it.

"Why not? You imagined me here. Besides, you saw Kate when she died."

"When she died, Timmy! You're not dead!" Abby yelled, fresh tears erupting. Imaginary-McGee went over to her.

"Abby," he said softly. "Abby, it's ok."

Since he was using a familiar line, she decided to also. "No, McGee, it's not."

"I'm not going to die," he said earnestly.

"You don't know that! You can't tell me more than what I know."

His soft expressive green eyes looked at her. Her heart fluttered.

"So why didn't you imagine me as a goth like Kate?" he grinned.

"I-I don't know." she giggled. But then she frowned and sniffled again.

"You're changing the subject,"

"And you talk to imaginary people," Timmy observed.

She walked around him to her computer. "I need to process this," she said. "We'll catch the SOB who did this to you."

"Thanks," he said. "I really am glad." The figment of her imagination said sadly.

"You would work just as hard and worry twice as much if it had happened to someone else," she told him. "But you need to stay. I would miss you too much, McGee." Even more tears leaked out.

"Hey, hey," he calmed her. "I would miss you too. Remember how we met?"

She smiled. "I went over this with Kate when she died."

He continued. "We heard each other's voices over a radio, and Tony introduced us. I got a tattoo for the occasion and everything." She giggled, even more tears coming out.

"I love you, Timmy," she whispered.

"I know, I know," he rolled his eyes. "Like puppies."

"No, I mean I love you."

-BEEP!-

Abby looked up. She was alone. Her computer beeped again.

"Oh, I have you now," Abby muttered. "Nobody messes with my McGee."


	4. Ducky

Hi everyone! I have had an easy week of school, so I've had lots of time to write. I hope you've been enjoying the story! I already wrote the next chapter, so it will be posted today or tomorrow.

Ducky left Palmer alone in the waiting room and went to get coffee. He walked slowly, left to his own thoughts. Because of the time of the day, he was the only one in the cafeteria. He paid for two cups and turned back in the direction of the emergency wing. He was halfway there when he passed a gurney. On in he saw none other than Tim McGee. He was pale and lying under a sheet, so that only his head could be seen.

"Hello, Ducky."

"Timothy," Ducky said. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," he said, confusedly. "Usually you talk to your...patients. I'm not your patient yet."

"You won't be," Ducky said. "You can survive this."

"I can, but will I?" he said. "I don't want to die, Ducky. I shouldn't be here."

"You know, Caitlyn said something very similar to me when she died."

His listener chuckled. "That's because you imagined the both of us."

"Very true..." Ducky thought for a moment. "Poor Jethro, he will blame this on himself."

"And it's your job to make sure he doesn't."

"He won't listen to me," Ducky said grimly.

"He will listen to you more than he would anyone else," McGee assured him.

"Well, I will try. But you must make sure that you can tell him yourself. You need to survive this."

"Ducky, you and I are both intelligent people," he said quietly. "And you are a doctor. You saw the wound. We both know the chances of coming back from this are...slim."

"But possible," The good Doctor said with force.

"Possible...Yes," Tim admitted.

"I am very proud of you, you know," Ducky told him. "You joined Jethro's team, survived the hazing, and turned into a talented and resourceful agent."

"Thanks, Ducky." Tim whispered, eyes closed.

"You are most welcome. Now pull through, so I can tell you in person."

"I'll try."

Tears sprang to Ducky's eyes. "I am so sorry, Timothy."

He turned to go talk to Palmer, a heavy sigh escaping him.

A/N: Yeah this chapter is pretty short, but I don't think that they would be too long in the show either!

So will McGee live?

Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!


	5. Ziva

A/N: hi again! Just wanted to say thanks to all my readers, especially to those that reviewed.

To FredNeverDied: I like your suggestion and I will definitely consider it!

So this chapter was my favorite to write because I love the relationship between Tim and Ziva, please tell me what you think!

...

Ziva and Tony were sitting in the waiting room with Gibbs. Jimmy sat by the opposite wall. It was silent and tense, no one said a word. Vance had been notified, and nobody really had the heart to call Abby. The Director assured them that he would tell her in person. Ducky came in shortly, already changed into some fresh clothes. He pointed out that they should clean up. None of the agents had noticed that they were covered in blood until that point. Tony got up first, and rushed to the bathroom. Gibbs shot up and muttered about getting coffee.

Ziva sat there for another moment, unsure if she should go. But she needed to leave before she hit something, and there was nothing in the stark emergency wing that would keep from holding back.

She stood and walked until she found a bathroom. She washed her hands and face, avoiding looking at the mirror. When she left the ladies' room she came to a door to the stairway. She stumbled up a flight of stairs until she could not go any further. She sat and pulled her knees to her chest, letting out some shaky breaths.

"Ziva," a soft voice called her. She looked up.

Her heart broke when she saw McGee, wearing the clothes he wore when he helped Tony rescue her from Somalia. His shirt had the same tear in the collar, the grime and blood was in all the exact places. He even had that same tired look everyone gets after time in the desert.

"You look awful," he observed.

"I like the outfit, it suits you," she shot back.

"You're lying," he chuckled.

"Through my teeth," she smiled wryly. "Oh McGee," she sighed, her voice catching. "I do not know what to do."

"There's nothing you can do," he said. "You helped me a lot. You did your job well. I would be dead if you hadn't acted the way you did."

"I could have pulled you down with me. The shooter would have missed you then."

"Ziva," McGee said. "Why did you think of me like this?"

"Because..." she answered. "Because you looked that way when you did the bravest thing you could ever have done for me."

"Right," he agreed. "So if I would go halfway across the world into a dangerous semi-combat zone to help my teammate, would I really want you to worry about whether or not this is your fault? Come on, Ziva. If I was really here, you know I would tell you that _it isn't your fault_. Because its _not_."

Ziva was trained from a young age not to cry, but she was alone. And she was not a Mossad agent anymore. Her throat seemed to be getting smaller, and it was getting harder to keep her cool.

"I owe you a lot. I could not lose you... You are a great friend. You were my first friend in America! I came in not one month after you lost your team member, but you were kind to me. You showed me more trust than anyone at NCIS those first few weeks."

"Hey," McGee shrugged.

"McGee," Ziva said. "I have... Lost teammates before. But back then that was a part of the job. 'Team' was really more of an operative word. Most of the time, you were on your own. If you did have a partner, you really could not trust them."

"It's certainly different here," McGee conceded.

"Yes," Ziva agreed wholeheartedly. "I can trust my team. My whole team, McGee. We need you and would miss you."

"We'll see what happens, Z," Tim told her. "I don't _want_ to die, you know."

That was it. Hearing Tim's wish to live- if only in her mind- made Ziva let out some tears. There wasn't any sobbing, just some clear, small droplets.

"No, Z, don't" McGee said, coming to sit next to her. It reminded her of the time that they sat in the park together, and she thanked him for his efforts in saving her. Why did everything about this remind her of Somalia?

"Why?" she asked.

Tim thought for a moment.

"I don't know, I guess it's just something you say," he murmured.

"You will have been the first friend and coworker I have lost since Mossad. Even when Ari died..." her voice was cracking, but she kept going. "It is not the same, Tim."

"You..you called me Tim," he said, surprised. "You never call me Tim."

She smiled when he pointed that out. He smiled and she glanced away. When she looked back, her imaginary Tim McGee was gone.

She bent her head and murmured a prayer in Hebrew.


	6. Tony

Hello again! Of course I want to say thank you to my reviewers- I appreciate it!

Did anyone see the SEASON 10 PREMIERE?! I liked it but there was something I felt was missing- that will be my next story. This one should be finished by the end of the week, I only have a couple chapters left to write.

Disclaimer: not mine, just having fun

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS NCISNCIS

DiNozzo rushed to the bathroom before anyone could talk to him. He didn't have a lot of blood on him, since he was not as close to McGee when he was shot. Still, blood gets everywhere, and he found some speckled on his hands.

Tony burst into the empty men's room and instantly vomited. Washing himself off, he looked in the mirror. His face was a pale green color, and he had to grip the sink to keep from falling over.

Not Tim, not the Probie.

McMiracle didn't get hurt. Yes, once with the dog, and that one time his shoulder got dislocated, but never shot, never in real danger of losing his life.

Until now.

It was happening all over again. The way it happened to Jenny, Paula, Mike Franks. So many friends and partners lost. Except he had known Tim longer. They had worked together when Ziva was supposedly dead, when Gibbs left, through murders and terrorist threats. They were friends, dammit!

"Something wrong?"

Tony's head shot up and he looked into the mirror. Behind him stood the Probie, a smirk on his face.

"What?" Tony swallowed.

"I've never seen you this emotional before. Even when Kate died. You didn't become attached to the team Probie, did you?"

Tony gawked. McGee looked just as he always did, long and lean, but he was wearing his older clothes, the ones he had before he lost weight. They hung on his frame, rolled up at the sleeves. The old and the new, different but the same.

"Uhm, no. I mean, of course, but... Its just that-"

"Tony," McGee's voice caught his attention. The junior agent's face showed genuine concern.

"Yes! Yes, I'm upset. You're like my brother, and I can't lose another friend. Especially my best friend," Tony said. "Tim, you never get hurt."

"I know!" McGee said, incredulous. "I never get hurt, but the one time I do..."

Tony closed his eyes. The shooting happened over and over again in his mind.

"I could have seen the shooter," Tony whispered.

"Don't-"

"No, McGee!" Tony shouted. "I should have seen him! I was the closest to the woods. I could have shot him before he...before."

"It's not your fault," Tim McGee insisted.

"Bull," Tony spat. "I'm the Senior Field Agent. It's my job to take care of my team! Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you shouting about how it's my fault you're in the emergency room? Anybody could have noticed the shooter! Ziva would have seen it. Gibbs would have seen it. Ducky could have seen it without his glasses!"

"Well what do you want to hear, DiNozzo? " Tim mocked. "You want me to blame it on you? Fine. It's your fault."

Tony sighed and put his head in his hands, resting his elbows against the sink.

"The great Tony DiNozzo is speechless," McGee said. "Wow."

"You're a lot more sarcastic in my mind," Tony complained.

"That's how you imagined me."

"Well..." Tony trailed off. "God, Tim, we need you here. You can't die."

"I'm working on it," McGee said sadly. This was more like the real McGee. "But..just in case-"

"Stop it. Just stop right there," DiNozzo growled.

"I was just going to say thanks," Tim said. "For everything. And that I'm sorry for not always having your back."

"Okay," Tony said, annoyed. "You cannot apologize. Who followed me into the desert on a suicide mission? Who pulled me over a wall when I was about to fall to my death?"

"Good times," Tim laughed. "And all that hazing in between... Didn't you promise that you would never give me a hard time again?"

Tony thought back to that night.

*gasp*I love you, McGee.*gasp* I promise I will never give you a hard time again.

...Yeah right.

"Oh. Well, you know almost everything I did was to make you a better agent."

"Do I know? I mean, I'm not really here. But what about the real me? How would I know that?"

Tony felt uncomfortable with these questions, and quickly changed the subject.

"I'm proud of you, Probie. I'd like to think that I helped turn you into the agent you've become."

McGee beamed, wearing the same expression he did when Gibbs would -occasionally- tell him good work. He still seemed so innocent sometimes.

"Don't cry or anything, Tony," Tim said.

"DiNozzo men do not cry," Tony said, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"Sure..." McGee chuckled. "Not in public."

There was a pause, where everything was silent. Tony groaned. "Your surgery is taking a long time."

"Yes, it is...any movie quote for the occasion?"

The question was asked in all seriousness. Tony really needed to think of a movie that applied; he felt lost without something he could apply the situation to.

"I can't think of one," Tony said meekly.

"You'll probably think of one later," McGee said. "After there's some news."

The statement was so calm, but left so many questions unanswered. What would the news be like? What if it was bad news? What was taking so long?

The uncertainty of it all made DiNozzo angry. He needed to know now. He slammed his hand against the paper towel dispenser and yelped when his hand started to hurt.

The door swung open, and Ziva walked in.

"You really need to work on staying in the women's bathroom," Tony muttered. "Because you always seem to be in the men's room."

"Tony," Ziva said quietly. "I heard you shout. I came to see if you were ok."

The rare show of sadness in her eyes made him pull her into a hug. They stood there for a moment, before Ziva suddenly pulled away.

"We should go to see if there is any change, yes?"

Tony's silent nod was enough. She turned and walked out, and he followed mechanically. They finally made it to where Palmer and Ducky were sitting, and the four continued waiting in silence.


	7. Gibbs

**Hey everyone! I'm back! Sorry for the delay- this weekend included a birthday party for my sister and a project due. But the story will be done tomorrow because I only have one more chapter to post after this one.**

**In regards to the chapter: I decided to use Doctor Brad Pitt just for convenience and for the sake of using a familiar character.**

**Disclaimer- not making money on this because I am teenage girl and not a professional. (If only, though...)**

Gibbs walked down the hall as fast as he could manage without running. He needed to just _go_. Somewhere, nowhere, anywhere. It didn't matter, he only wanted to get his mind straight.

He went down a set of stairs, washed his hands in the bathroom closest to the lobby doors, and then exited the hospital.

Normally in such a situation, he would be right outside that emergency room, demanding updates on his son's situation. But it was too early and he needed coffee desperately- and there was a coffee shop right across the street.

It was now business hours, people were milling around and traffic was picking up. Gibbs crossed the street without bothering to look for oncoming cars. A Volkswagen bug screeched on its brakes to keep from hitting him. This was a man who had survived multiple gunshot wounds and two explosions- crossing the street would be the last thing to kill him.

He quickly ordered coffee for himself and everyone else on his team. He hurried back after receiving the drinks, wanting to return before something changed with McGee's surgery.

"You know it might be hours before there is anything." a sad, pain filled voice said.

Gibbs looked up, noticing his surroundings for the first time since he had risen from the waiting room couch. He seemed to be in an elevator, going back up to the ER. There, sharing the silver car, was the one and only Timothy McGee.

Tim looked terrible. His eyes had big circles under them, and his face was drawn from exhaustion. The worst part, however, was the angry blood-red gunshot wound in his chest. Gibbs flicked the emergency switch, leaving he and his visitor in darkness.

The older man looked at his agent in remorse.

"Ah hell, Tim," he said.

"Boss..." Tim started. His eyes showed so much sadness and betrayal. "Why? Why couldn't you take care of yourself? The great, indestructible Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and you wouldn't have been able to stop that bullet from killing you. So I took it for you, and what do I get? I'm in the hospital with a pretty good chance of dying."

This wasn't the same accusing anger that it had been the last time this happened. The accusing was still there, yes, but no anger. It was like looking at a puppy that was just kicked; McGee's big eyes stared at Gibbs, as if abandoned.

"You didn't have to do it," the Team Leader said hopelessly.

"And have to live with myself? And with the rest of my team? Come on, Boss. I was the closest to you. Either I would push you out of the way, or you would take a bullet to the heart. Like me."

Gibbs stood there, the coffee still in his hands, while his youngest team member continued.

"Maybe you're getting too old for this job..."

"I'm sorry, McG-"

"No, don't Boss," Tim said, sounding a little more like himself. The accusation was gone from his voice. "Don't apologize, it's a sign of weakness remember? I wouldn't want you to blame yourself. All of that- that was you blaming yourself. Just get back to the team."

Maybe the fact that this imaginary person showed so much concern for his team was what hurt Gibbs the most. It was probably just hearing McGee say something just like he usually would that made his chest heavier.

"You will not die, McGee," Gibbs stated. "That's an order."

Tim opened his mouth to say more, but a strange buzzing sound cut him off. Gibbs glanced down and reached into his pocket. His phone screen informed him that Vance was calling. He considered declining the call, but his gut said that the Director had important news.

"Gibbs," the Team Leader said in a low voice.

"The gun was ID'ed by Miss Scuito," Vance told him. "The gun belongs to a man named Ian Moore. No criminal record. I've already sent out a team to find him. I'll keep you posted, and Miss Scuito should be there soon."

Hanging up, Gibbs turned to where his companion had stood. McGee was gone.

He flicked the emergency switch again, and finally made it back to the ER. The lack of activity in the waiting room made it clear that there had been no change or news. Only Ducky and Palmer were there, sitting and sipping hospital coffee. Gibbs handed them the new drinks and the three sat there in silence again. Tony and Ziva eventually came back and had not been there for ten minutes before Abby came in, wailing and hyper with anxiety.

"Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs! Is he out of surgery? Oh my god that is a lot of blood on your shirt!"

"Abs, shh," Gibbs said, pulling her into a hug and cursing himself for not washing the blood off of his sleeves. "McGee's gonna be fine."

Abby looked at him with a sliver of belief, and he really hoped that he would be right.

...

Who could tell how long they waited like that? Sitting there in silence, unmoving. Tony and Ziva on one couch, Tony nodding off and Ziva with her chin in her hands, staring at nothing. Abby sat in between Gibbs and Ducky, and Palmer in the chair on Ducky's right.

Finally, the door opened and a weary figure stepped out. Everybody lurched to their feet, except for Tony, who jolted awake. Seeing the doctor, he unsteadily leapt up. "Ow...head rush," he muttered.

"When I heard that an NCIS agent on the Major Case Response Team, I assumed it had to be Tony," the man said.

"Doctor Brad Pitt, always a pleasure," Tony said, slight sarcasm in his voice.

"We need to stop meeting under such circumstances," Brad said with a grin. But then he switched to serious mode. "Does Tim have family that need to be notified?"

"His parents are traveling with his sister, unreachable; and his grandmother isn't answering either. But he doesn't talk to them much anyway," Ducky said.

"For all insensitive purposes, we are his family," Ziva attempted.

"It's for all intents and purposes, Z," Tony corrected gently.

Doctor Pitt looked to Ducky, who nodded his head to continue.

"He survived the surgery," he said gravely. "But it's still a critical time. The bullet nicked a rib, which sent it dangerously close to his heart."

"Was there severe heart trauma?" Ducky asked.

"Miraculously, no," he said. "The bullet hit a lung instead. It collapsed right before we operated. He flatlined twice."

Abby whimpered and Tony put his arm around her.

"We have him on a ventilator. We will be keeping him in a medical coma until we can remove it, because he is just not strong enough to breathe alone right now."

"But he's gonna be ok?" Abby asked hopefully. Dr. Pitt's mouth formed into a grim line.

"Abigail," Ducky spoke up. "The doctor cannot make promises."

"He's right," Brad agreed. "But I know that he's a fighter. You really do pick strong people for your team, Gibbs."

"Wouldn't accept anything less," Gibbs said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"He is not out of the woods yet, but the next twenty four hours are important."

With that, Doctor Pitt left Team Gibbs in the care of a kind but tired looking nurse.

"He will be moved to the ICU," she said. "You can see him there."

Twenty minutes later, the team stood outside of McGee's room, waiting anxiously. The same nurse came out and said quietly, "You can go in, but it would be better if you went in two or three at a time."

Ducky and Palmer went in first. Ducky checked all of the monitors, charts, and tubes. There were so many. Once he was satisfied, he glanced at his protégé. Palmer stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Turning back to the figure on the bed, he spoke.

"Good work, Timothy," Ducky said softly. "I knew you would pull through. Keep fighting." He patted the young man's hand and stepped to the corner of the room so that Palmer could speak.

"Uh..." Palmer said awkwardly. "Please, _please_ get better. We're all pulling for you, Tim."

They shuffled out, and Abby, Tony, and Ziva came in. Abby and Ziva each took a side of the bed, and held Tim's hands. Tony just stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze shifting from the floor to his partner's still figure and back.

"Timmy," Abby said quietly. "You can't leave us. We need you here." The goth attempted to say more, but her voice caught and tears clouded her vision. She squeezed his hand and rushed out before she started sobbing again. Gibbs caught her and hugged her until the sobs stopped and his forensic tech was able to take deep breaths.

Ziva finished praying for Tim and turned to Tony, who was still looking away. She forced herself into his line of sight, until his eyes met hers. He looked so sad and scared. She touched his shoulder and guided him out.

"Jethro," Ducky began gently. Gibbs looked up at his broken team, everyone looking exhausted and afraid, then turned and entered his wounded agent's room.

When was the last time McGee had looked so...frail? The kid was already so thin, but never had Gibbs seen Tim look so weak. The IVs, the ventilator, it was all very unnerving. The young man's pale skin was a sickly yellowish color. Gibbs took a deep breath and went to the side of the bed, where he sat down in a chair and put his hand on his son's forehead. He brushed his hair back with a gentleness he only showed when he was concerned for someone's well being.

"Well, I survived at least," a voice said brightly. Gibbs saw his imaginary McGee come to stand on the other side of the bed and look down at himself. He put his hands in his pockets and drew in a shaky breath. Then his eyes met Gibbs'.

"Anything you wish you could tell me right now?"

The Boss looked back at the man laying in the bed. "That's a good job, Tim," he said. "Keep fighting."

...

When he left the room, everyone looked up at him expectantly.

"Go home," he began. Five mouths opened to protest, but he continued before they could speak. "You need the rest. McGee's going to be out for awhile. We don't need anyone collapsing before he can even wake up. Palmer and Ducky can come back in a few hours to take a shift. Abs, you come with Tony and Ziva after that. I'll stay with him for now."

"But Boss, what about the bastard who shot McGee?" Tony said angrily.

"Don't worry, DiNozzo. Vance said that they already ID'ed the guy and were going to pick him up."

"I would like a word with him," Ziva said in a scary voice.

"Get in line, Ziva," Tony told her.

They all dispersed and Gibbs went back into Tim's room.


	8. Nightmares and Waking Up

Here it is! The last chapter. A few chapters ago I evilly asked if McGee might live or die, and several comments were left insisting that he should definitely live. I thought this was pretty funny, because I already had an idea of what was going to happen. So, is this ending satisfactory?

Also, I'm not a doctor, so medical jargon and situations are purely for the story's purposes.

Disclaimer: not mine! playing around, etcetera etcetera etcetera!

Everything hurt. Timothy McGee couldn't remember a time when he had been in so much pain. But he wouldn't have been able to remember anything just then. The shock from the injury was like getting slapped unexpectedly: it wipes away all thought until you feel the sting.

He didn't know how it happened. Actually, he didn't even know what had happened. One moment he was looking for evidence, and the next he was shoving Gibbs out of the way of...something?

Breathing was suddenly very hard. Each inhale brought a huge stab of agony. Exhaling was even worse, and there was a rushing sound in his ears.

His eyes closed. What was the point of keeping them open? He was suddenly very tired anyway.

He fell backwards and hit something. There was shouting, and pressure on his chest. That hurt the most. What was going on? He just wanted to sleep...

But then he heard it.

"McGee. Come on, McGee."

Gibbs.

After almost a decade of working with the man, it was a reflex to respond to an order from Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It was impossible not to! Even as his heart beat was fading in and out, McGee answered.

"B'ss?" he asked. But before he could even hear what Gibbs was saying, he lost consciousness.

...

This seemed to be a dream. But he wasn't sure. Either way, it was freaking him out.

He was in autopsy. It was dark and quiet, except for one light that shone on the last table. On it there was a body- he couldn't tell who it was, but he hoped it was someone he didn't know. Call it a gut feeling, but McGee could tell that he wasn't going to like what he saw if he found out who actually was on that platform. However, now he had to see for himself. He walked over to the steel bed, and pulled back the cover just so that he could see the victim's face. When he did, he had to bite back the shout of horror on his lips.

It was him.

Tim couldn't believe it, but he was looking at his own face, pale and still.

What had happened to him? He pulled back the cover sheet just a little bit more, to look at his chest. There it was, a gunshot wound, still with a small trace of blood.

The doors to autopsy swished open. Tim turned around to face the newcomer, and wasn't surprised to see Palmer and Ducky. They didn't see him, he realized, when Ducky walked right by him, not noticing him in the slightest. Palmer looked terrible. Yes, Doctor Mallard looked tired and grieving, but Jimmy's face was drawn and pale. He lingered by the doors, hesitant to go any farther. Ducky gave his protégé a sympathetic glance, and continued on towards the table. McGee panicked- there was no way he was going to watch his own autopsy! He stepped back, ready to bolt from the room, but Ducky did not move for any tools. He simply placed the cover sheet back over Tim's body so that his only his head was visible again.

Just then the automatic doors moved again. McGee glanced up to see Gibbs storm in. Never had he looked so furious. He hit the lights, illuminating the suite.

"Jethro," Ducky said softly. "I am sorry."

"Dammit, Duck! This wasn't supposed to happen."

"It's never supposed to happen," Ducky said with patience. Still, a hint of exasperation colored his tone.

Gibbs stood there for another moment, then turned and left. McGee noticed that he didn't look at the still form on the table- he looked everywhere else.

Ducky turned to Jimmy. "Mr. Palmer, I think that maybe we should go for awhile. There will be friends who will want to say goodbye."

The Autopsy Gremlin nodded and turned, knocking a book off of the table he was standing near. It clattered to the floor, pages fluttering as it fell.

"Sorry, Doctor," the assistant mumbled, picking up the book. The two left, leaving McGee alone again, perplexed. He tried to move for the door, but stopped when his favorite Goth entered. Her makeup was horribly smeared, and Tim felt a pang in his heart for her. She sniffled and hiccuped as she went to the end of the row, and stopped in front of him. He tried to get her attention, but she didn't notice him. She only looked down, and cried.

"Abby, it's ok," he tried to assure her. Tim walked right behind her, and put his hand on her shoulder. He was very disappointed when even his touch didn't make her notice him.

When she spoke, he jumped, thinking that she might be hearing him and actually responding. But then she started babbling.

"I'm so sorry, Timmy. I can't believe this and I just want you back andwhoisgoingtohackwithmeand understandwhenItalkcomputers andforensicsand..." she went on like this, and Tim noticed that she seemed to be having a very long one-sided conversation, like she was talking to an imaginary listener. Well, he was listening, wasn't he? Her voice got faster and her words blurred into one stream of sound, until she gave up and the words became sobs. She turned and rushed out, her pigtails bouncing behind her.

Tim felt a little hysterical himself. 'How did this happened to me?' he wondered. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he- or rather, the body on the table, he still couldn't consider it as himself- had another visitor. So, he sat and waited. He didn't have to wait for long until Ziva came in, her eyes red from crying. Neverbefore had he seen Ziva cry. But there she was, slowly making her way over to her friend. She looked at him, and said quietly,

"I never really appreciated your friendship until it was too late. I am sorry McGee."

She stayed there for a while, silent and still. McGee wanted to tell her that he knew, of course they were friends, and that he understood. But he knew she wouldn't hear him, so he watched her expression. It was an odd mix of sadness and rage.

"I believe I once told you that you were not just any partner, and that if someone hurt you I would make him regret the day he was born," Ziva said finally. Tim laughed at the memory.

"Get in line, Ziva," a male voice sounded. Both Ziva and McGee turned to see Tony, whose eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed.

"Ziva and Tony crying on the same day?" their partner said, amazed.

DiNozzo joined the ex-Mossad officer and pulled her into a hug. Ziva broke it first, and quietly strode out.

"This is getting weird," Tim muttered.

His friend paced the room, speaking in a low voice as he went.

"Geez, Probie, you're not supposed to get hurt. I'm should be the one to go first, you know- In first, out first."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the expressio-" the junior agent began out of habit, but Tony kept going.

"Out of all the friends in all the world for this to happen to, it had to be you..."

"Yeah, that's definitely not the quote," McGee said. "In fact that was pretty weak."

DiNozzo went on and on. Tim noticed that he was starting to babble like Abby. But he couldn't hear all that the SFA wanted to say, because the doors opened once again. Tony spun around to face the latest visitor.

"Boss," Tony said. "When is Ducky-"

"As soon as you leave," Gibbs cut him off. "Go home, Tony, get some rest."

The youngest man in the room looked at his Boss. There was no remorse, no sadness in the features. The Team Leader seemed very uncaring about the situation. McGee watched Tony hesitate, then brush past Gibbs and leave.

Ducky entered. "Did you get to-"

"Nothing to say, Duck," Gibbs snapped. He turned to leave.

"Boss?" Tim asked, hurt. Why didn't his Team Leader- his father figure- care? "Boss!"

"McGee? Tim, can you hear me?"

Tim's eyes snapped open. His vision was blurry- and there was something in his mouth. It was crazy uncomfortable and it made him gag. He heard some beeping in the background. There were figures of people rushing around him, but he still could not make out faces.

"Agent McGee," a calm voice said. "You're safe. You are alright."

...

Earlier that Day:

Gibbs looked at his team. For several days they had taken shifts at the hospital, not daring to leave their friend alone for a moment, in case he should wake up. Even at Brad's insistence that he would be asleep even after he was out of the coma for a little while, they stayed within fifty feet of the room. At Abby's request and Ducky's influence, Tim was moved to a room with an observation window, so they could see him even when he wasn't supposed to have visitors.

When Brad had told the group that he would be bringing their youngest agent out of his coma, everyone was relieved. After that they abandoned the shift routine, and all just stayed at the hospital. Four days after the shooting, Doctor Pitt came out to Gibbs and Ducky to discuss what would happen. The rest of the team sat on the other side of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"We want to take out that ventilator before he wakes up, or he might panic."

"Of course," Ducky agreed.

"He should be awake soon, so we are prepping now."

"Will he be able to breathe without it?" Gibbs asked skeptically. It seemed like a stupid question, but Tim still looked so weak...

"Yes, I assure you, I have checked and double checked that lung- he should make a full recovery. His lung will have a little scarring and it will take a little while to get back to any running or exercise routine, but he's going to be fine," Brad said understandingly.

"And what about other damage to ribs or surrounding tissue?" Ducky inquired.

"Well we patched up any damage and we are keeping an eye on it. He is on a painkiller right now so he won't feel miserable."

Ducky and Gibbs thanked the doctor, and Brad rose to enter McGee's room when a frantic beeping came from within.

"Oh god," Doctor Pitt muttered, rushing into the room. Several nurses followed him, making the little family outside leap up worriedly.

"What's going on?!" Abby cried. But no one answered her, unsure themselves. Ducky caught the attention of a nurse who was leaving the room in a hurry.

"What is happening, my dear?" he asked.

"He woke up ahead of time. Apparently someone bumped his IV cart, so the tube was slightly pulled. He's only been getting the sedative until this morning, and it wore off."

"Why didn't anyone notice?" Gibbs demanded.

"Well, the nurse who was supposed to be on duty at the monitoring station left this morning in a rush- some family emergency. Then there was a crash situation in a room around the corner...but you didn't hear that from me," the nurse said.

Ducky thanked the nurse and she went on her way. Everyone began talking at once, trying to figure out what to do.

"Hey!" Gibbs said, catching them off guard. They stopped all at once. The team leader was about to speak when another nurse came out and addressed them.

"We need someone who is familiar to the patient to come in. It may help to calm him."

"Go, Gibbs. We will wait here," Ziva said. But Gibbs didn't hear her- he was already inside.

He entered to see several staff members assisting Doctor Pitt in holding down Tim, whose eyes were wide and who was lurching forward in confused panic.

"McGee? Tim, can you hear me?" Gibbs said, coming up to the side of the bed and putting his hand on his son's shoulder. When Tim began to calm down, Brad spoke. "Agent McGee, you're safe. You are alright."

This was starting to have its effect on the young man, who seemed to finally notice where he was. Gibbs put his hand on the side of Tim's head, making him notice the team leader. McGee turned to look at his boss, who remembered his experience of waking up with a ventilator down his throat. It's scary and uncomfortable. Gibbs could almost feel it as his looked at his son.

"Tim," Doctor Pitt said, getting his attention. "We are going to take the tube out of your mouth. Blink twice if you are ready."

Two blinks.

"Ok, open you mouth, and keep it open. Stay calm. On the count of three. One, two..."

On 'three' the ventilator was removed, bringing a gag and round of coughs from Tim. A nurse gave Gibbs a cup of ice chips, and he fed them to his agent, who readily took them to soothe his aching throat.

"It's good to have you back, Tim." Gibbs said after a moment, which elicited a smile from the junior field agent. And was the team leader wrong -doubtful, of course- but did McGee seem... relieved?

...

After the doctor and his army of nurses were satisfied that Tim was comfortable and alright, and that there were lots of ice chips at hand, they left him with Gibbs. Brad had orders that only one person should be in the room at a time with the team leader, who was allowed to stay the whole time. (The doctor knew that arguing with the man would be useless- why bother?) He also apologized to McGee profusely for the IV incident, and promised that he would find who was responsible. Tim brushed it off, replying that he didn't suffer for the mistake, and that it really didn't matter, but Doctor Pitt was determined to find the culprit.

Ducky and Palmer went in again first and second, Ducky checking all of the monitors once again, and greeting Tim with a warm "Welcome back, Timothy." Palmer was happy to see his friend awake and aware, and told McGee as much. Tim responded with a hoarse and usually single sentence for his visitors, but his voice gained strength as time wore on and ice chips ran low.

"How long was I out?" he croaked to his Boss just as Palmer left. "And what exactly happened?"

"You were shot...pushing me out of the way of a bullet," Gibbs said gruffly. "Saved my life. Thank you, Tim."

"Of...of course Boss," his agent replied, embarrassed. "I'm just glad you're ok." Secretly, he felt a slight pressure lift from his chest. He would never make it up to Gibbs for pushing him out of the way of that oncoming car when the two of them were chasing that suspect all those years ago, but this helped ease the guilt a little.

"It happened on Monday, and you were kept in a comauntil Wednesday. Yesterday. Today's Thursday."

"Wow," Tim murmured. "And the guy that...shot me?"

"He was drunk. Apparently just lost some family member. He was tracked back to his house by Balboa's team. He threatened to shoot Agent Hitt- who he attacked and held hostage- until he was shot down. Balboa said it looked like a suicide-by-cop deal."

McGee looked at his boss and noticed that Gibbs' jaw was clenched. He realized that this wasn't satisfactory to the team leader, and that he had wanted to make the man pay. This made the young agent uncomfortable, and he was going to change the subject when Tony walked in.

Tony came in giddy and talkative, supplying movie quotes and nicknames galore. He told Tim and the Boss that he Doctor Pitt reviewed the security tapes, and concluded that the malfunctioning IV was ironically knocked by the nurse who had come to fill Tim's sedatives in the first place. Ziva followed after, calmly and quietly telling McGee that she was happy he was alright. McGee knew her well enough to know that this was her way of not losing control of her emotions, of coping with situations, and happily replied that it was good to see her too.

In a characteristic (and polar opposite to Ziva) kind of performance, Abby swirled into Tim's room like a tornado, fussing over McGee and rushing towards him for a hug. Gibbs put out his arms to stop her.

"Careful, Abs," Gibbs warned. She looked at him with innocent eyes and raised brows.

"I wasn't going to hurt him, Gibbs," the Lab Rat said. "I was just going to...welcome him back."

The Boss looked at his favorite for a moment, looked at Tim, then silently stepped out.

"Hey Abby!" Tim greeted cheerfully. He tried to sit up straighter, but it hurt to move, and he winced.

"Timmy!" she said, moving to his bedside and pressing the button to gently elevate him into an upright position. "How are you feeling?!"

McGee thought about it, and answered honestly. "Not as bad as you'd think."

"Well, I guess that's better than it could be," Abby conceded. "Oh McGee, I was so worried."

She gave him a slap on the arm, the kind you don't feel but know to take as a scolding.

"What was that for?"

"For scaring me. For scaring us. Don't ever do that again!"

"I promise, I don't plan on it."

Unsatisfied, she sat down. They talked for a little bit, until her phone rang.

"Who was it?" Tim asked when she was done.

"Vance," the forensic tech said. "He needs me to run some tests on some evidence."

"Go, go," he shooed her. "I'm not going anywhere."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and left. Gibbs reentered the room to see his youngest staring into space, with concentration etched all over his features.

"Something wrong, McGee?"

Tim snapped out of it and faced his boss.

"It seemed like everyone was...reserved. Like they were holding something back."

Gibbs thought of a good way to explain this, then spoke.

"If you could tell Kate one more thing, what would you say?"

McGee answered immediately. "I would tell her-" He stopped short, and realization came to his eyes.

"Oh..."

"They were all worried about you. We all were," the team leader said. "They probably thought about what they could tell you if you made it. Now they want to. Wouldn't be surprised if they came in to tell you soon."

There was a moment of silence as Tim took this in. Gibbs absently glanced at his watch.

"Go home, Boss," McGee said. The older man inwardly marveled at how much the younger man sounded like him. "I'll be fine."

Gibbs smirked and turned to leave, the stress from the last few days lifted off his shoulders. He reached the doorframe when a hesitant voice called him back.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee."

"...what were you going to tell me?"

Gibbs drew in a breath and turned to face his son.

"That I'm proud of you, McGee."

He didn't miss the beaming smile that Tim tried to hide as he left.

...

McGee was tired. He thought absently that for someone who had been unconscious for the last three and a half days, he was remarkably sleepy. But Gibbs' words came back to him, about what he would say to Kate, and what his team might say to him. So, he wasn't surprised when a small knock sounded at the doorway.

He turned to see the visitor, and was happy to see that it was Abby.

"Hello again," he smiled. "Done with the evidence already?"

She simply nodded and walked in with smaller steps than he had ever seen her take before.

"Timmy," she began...shyly? "I was doing some thinking when you were...in surgery. And..." He waited patiently, knowing that she would tell him in her own time.

"...I need to tell you something."

Well, that's it! I know it was a little weird, but I just kind of had an idea and ran with it.

So, the wonderful FredNeverDied suggested to me earlier that I might have Tim experience some parallels to what the other characters were feeling. I tried to fit several of them into the nightmare- and I made some more subtle than others. Didya get them all? :)

Just a big thank you to all the reviewers of this fic. You're all awesome!


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